Hazel Quinstrom
by KittyBear98
Summary: She was falling. Falling into nothing. Light flickered impossibly around her. She should have known better than to follow the stupid rabbit. Rated M for future chapters.
1. 0 Beginning

There isn't much Hazel could tell you about her past. Not much besides she was taken in by an elderly couple who didn't share a droplet of blood with her. They raised her and gave her as normal a childhood they could at their age. She lost Mrs. Quinstrom first at the age of 7 from a slow sickness she had been suffering since before they adopted her. She died in a hospital bed, Hazel and Mr. Quinstrom on her side. As she grew without her 'mother' Mr. Quinstrom made sure she had a decent education and dedicated most of his time to her and his woodcarving. At night, almost every Saturday in a candle lit room, even before his wife's death, he would tell Hazel stories of his past. The wars he had been a part of (even some of his father and grandfather's war stories), the children he and his wife had raised, their happiness (and yet the mystery) at finding her, and she relished every minute of it. When she reached her preteen and teen year in middle and high school, she experimented with relationships as many kids did. Respecting her father's wishes, she abstained from many of the temptations others tended to give in to, though she wasn't a Mary sue. There were a select few times where she had strayed and got in a little over her head due to peer pressure.

When it came to education, Hazel excelled in recent history and her language classes, mostly due to Mrs. Quinstrom being a retired linguist and Mr. Quinstrom hailing from the border of France and Spain as a young boy. She struggled in classes such as Finance and Health, she kept her grades up, failing 1 or 2. By the time she graduated, tragedy struck and Hazel was forced to get a part time job to make up for Mr. Quinstrom's newfound disability. A strike from a vehicle left him amputated from both knees down. The Saturday night grew in weeks from each other and the whittling fell to a figurine a month, maybe two. Hazel could only be an onlooker as the health of man who raised her slowly diminished. When the day arrived that was ready to pass on, he called Hazel to his bedside and smiled at her.

"I want you to have something." He had gestured to a wooden box on his bedside table, "I… had just finished making these… the… day we found you…" Inside was a pair of little intricate, wooden figurines of a fox and an owl, lightly glazed with paint to make it resemble a red one. It's eyes, despite their diminutive size, had a pair of ice blue irises. The owl resembled a snowy owl in mid-flight, the colours of late fall speckled it's form. "Treasure them. They were our… favourite… animals. I love… you."

"I love you too papa. I- _Je t'amie_." Hazel wept as Mr. Quinstrom's eyes closed for a final time and his chest fell as his breath left him. His will left her the estate and his fortune of over 20k. She donated the estate to an orphanage and all but a meagre $500 to random charities. From that day she lived alone in a small cabin on the outskirts of town.

"Can you believe that girl? I mean, who in their right mind brings a ferret into school?"

"You're freaking about a ferret? There was a dude who released a dozen birds in my chem!"

The pair of girls in front of her cackled as they sashayed down the sidewalk, leaving her alone in the empty area. Hazel had been in both those classes and admittedly thought both were fairly humorous. But that didn't make her speak up. She was invisible to them and almost everyone else. Ever since Mr. Quinstrom's death, Hazel had secluded herself from the world, the only time she came out was for supplies and the collage classes she couldn't take online. Silently, she pulled the fox and owl from her chest pocket, whispered a few small words of respect and put them away. When she looked up, her mind reeled.

She was now 21 and a fully developed young woman. She had almost mastered 5 languages and was working on a 6th. She knew for a fact that she was of a sound mind due to her very short course in psychology. Yet, there before her, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, was a rabbit. An almost Irish green (but it could have been Mint), winged rabbit. It was nibbling on the grass that was sprouting on the edge of the earth and concrete. Closing her eyes and with one hand, she rubbed her eyes with her fingers and pinched the top of her nose briefly before reopening them and seeing that the rabbit had disappeared. A quick glance and she just barely saw it bounding into the forest. Unable to stop herself, she dropped her bag and took off after it.

It was a chore to keep the rabbit in her field of view. She lost it a few times but managed to find it again leaping over a large log with the flutter of it's wings. When the creature finally disappeared, she was left alone again. This time in the middle of a dense, dark forest. Light just barely filtered through the summer rich leaves above. The ground was littered with the dead leaves of fall, small piles of winter snow that should have melted months ago, and spring flowers that had hardly bloomed. It was as if the seasons were in an internal timeless agreement. A flash of green appeared at the edge of a cliff she hadn't noticed was near. Curiosity stole the best of her sense and she found herself standing on the edge looking down at a thicket of brambles.

"It's not white or a tunnel but alright Alice. Let's follow it." She mumbled to herself as she sat down and swung her legs over the side. Turning to her stomach, she shimmied so from the waist down was hanging and her feet had decent footholds. Slowly she worked her way down the side of the face, hands trembling every time she released the ground. When a bit of earth crumbled in her hand, she realized she shouldn't have followed the rabbit, but it was too late. Her hand slipped from the face of the cliff and unbalanced inertia sent her falling backward.

Hazel's breathing grew shallow as the rushing air around her snagged the breathable air, very little pressure pressed under her as her body cut through it. The weightless feeling of falling grasping her as her terrors flashed around her. It was impossible to tell how far she was from falling. Impossible lights flickered at the edges of her vision as she continued to descend. Then…

Blackness. Icy cold blackness…


	2. 1 Change

**I'm sorta new to the story making scene. I have a few tiny things on Wattpad heh. I can do with almost any constructive critism you guys can give me. I'd appreciate it. Just… Try to be nice with it I guess… Anyway, enjoy chapter 1!**

 _Hazel's breathing grew shallow as the rushing air around her snagged the breathable air, very little pressure pressed under her as her body cut through it. The weightless feeling of falling grasping her as her terrors flashed around her. It was impossible to tell how far she was from falling. Impossible lights flickered at the edges of her vision as she continued to descend. Then…_

 _Blackness. Icy cold blackness…_

Warmth covered her existence, more on one side than the other. It reminded her of Saturdays. A faint pressure graced her forehead then left, replaced by something damp and cold. Whispers echoed around her and the sound of a door creaking almost continuously with movement. She struggled to open her eyes, to see where she was and who was helping her, only to desperately fail. There was no energy in her body. The only thing she could do was feel what was on her skin. Her heartbeat was just barely echoing though her ears past the sounds, but she couldn't feel it. As her mind raced, she could feel the draw of unconsciousness drag her back into it's darkness and much to her displeasure, she easily fell into it's open arms.

A light filtered through Hazel's eyelids as she began to wake once more. This time, her eyes cracked open, partly encrusted from the amount of time they were closed. A dull ache stretched from the tip of her scalp all the way to her toes, as if she had been exercising and managed to stretch every muscle to the point of pain. To her left, and in direct view of the 'bed' she was on, a fireplace stood tall, it's mantle 4 feet from the floor and fresh wood sat inside it's unlit mouth. At the foot of her bed sat a man she barely had time to acknowledge before another pair of men began to converse in the other direction. She turned her head ever so slightly to see 2 men, one dressed in a blue uniform and appearing almost albino, and another in a brown Italian war uniform. Opening her mouth to speak, she found she couldn't due to the nearly sandy feeling in her throat and mouth. The man at the end of her bed nearly jumped and brought and tipped a cup of water to her lips, allowing her to drink. Never, had she seen someone smile like he was, not since before her mo- Mrs. Quinstrom died. So full of relief and barely hidden excitement. When he pulled the glass away, she slowly swallowed the water, trying to wet her entire throat.

"H-Hi…" Her voice cracked as she spoke, but at least she did much to her satisfaction. The two across the room quickly halted their conversation and turned towards her, surprise strewn across their faces. The Italian (she assumed) ran from the room and the blue one came over to her and the guy at the end of her bed.

"Welcome to ze living _frau_." Now that he was closer, she could see him clearer. He was albino and his uniform was earlier German. She glanced at the still quiet man then back at the 'German'.

"Wh-where am I?" Hazel began to prop herself up onto her elbow when the pain suddenly congregated in her arm and side and the German stopped her and made her lie back down.

"Careful _frau_. Jou are still healing,"

"Healing? Healing from what? What happened?"

"I shall let Matthew tell jou. Right now I sink Lovi needs my help." The German absconded much like the Italian, leaving her alone with the quiet man. Hazel turned to face him, taking what she could in before speaking. He had chin length hair, a bit longer but not by much. A long curl protruded from his hair line, looped and hung in front of his face. A set of glasses sat above the bridge of his nose. Like the others, his outfit was a tan uniform, but more aerial than the other 2 with two leather straps crossing at his chest.

"S-so that's your name? Matthew?" He nodded happily.

"Yes. I've kinda been the one watching over you, taking care of you while everyone else does their thing."

"What did that guy mean, healing?"

"Oh… Well, we kinda found you. You were laying in a snow drift, covered in cuts and bruises. Even had a few fractured but not broken bones." Matthew gestured to a few wraps on her arms and legs that she had failed to notice. Her brows scrunched together in a frown then up in surprise as he continued, "You've been out for almost 2 weeks. We were about ready to put you on life support."

"I… 2 weeks? Wha…" Hazel stammered as she tried to make sense of your situation.

"It's hard to admit, but we were ready to give up on you until you partly woke up and whimpered a few days ago. Scared Kiku half to death while he was putting a rag on your head." Matthew looked down and tapped his fingers for a moment before he glanced up at her, "Can you remember anything from before you got in the drift?" As he asked his question, a group of people filed into the room, momentarily distracting Hazel.

"I… I was falling… I think. I remember chasing this odd rabbit and falling off a cliff. Am I dead?"

"No. If you were yo-" Matthew was cut off by a man in a green uniform with blonde hair and bushy eyebrows.

"An odd rabbit?"

"Um yeah…" Hazel frowned at the interruption, "I know it sounds a little Alice Liddell of me but it was a green rabbit with wings. I followed it to a cliff and slipped while trying to climb down. How I ended up in a snow drift is beyond me… All there was was brambles below me." A mutter grew between the men as the bushy browed, British accented one rubbed his chin. I looked back at Matthew almost apologetically to which he smiled at me for.

" _Ma petite femme, quel est voter nom?_ " A French accent came from a man in a semi-flamboyant blue uniform.

"Stupid frog! She probab-" It was the Englishman's turn to be interrupted.

" _Je m'appelle Hazel Quinstrom. Je suis am_ _é_ _ricaine._ " Hazel's voice flowed melodically with the French words, surprising the Englishman and some others. Embarrassed, Hazel continued in English, "My guardians were multilingual."

" _Magnifique_ _!_ Serves you right to assume Arthur! Honhonhon!" The Frenchman laughed. Arthur scowled and lunged for the Frenchman. I glanced at Matthew who simply shook his head.

"ENOUGH! Everyone out! The girl needs her sleep! We can discuss more later!" A German, but definitely not the one from before, shouted and almost forcefully guided everyone out.

"But the _ragazza_ 's been sleeping for-"

"Out." The German spoke softer to a bubbly looking Italian.

Hazel stretched, the ache in her bones still there but dull. Wraps stretched along her arms from wrist to mid-upper arm. Boredom was slowly creeping through her mind as Matthew had left to get some food for himself, leaving her alone to her own devices. Her mind was oddly calm despite the possible severity of her situation. The many people felt like family despite being complete and utter strangers. Everything felt off yet completely familiar. Like something had changed within her, something that had been hidden since her birth. But she was normal. Completely and utterly normal. So shouldn't she be freaking out? Shouldn't she be wishing she was home instead of this unfamiliar place? Wait, scratch that last one. This was much better than home. At least, it felt that way. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and noticed that someone had changed her into a fresh nightgown, one that reminded her of a Victorian era yet somewhat modern and at knee length. This gave her a clear view of the wraps on her legs, one stretched to mid-calf and the other mid-thigh. Both were wrapped around her ankles to her toes. Hazel picked at the top of the mid-calf one before pushing herself off the bed and into a standing position. A couple wobbles and worrisome stumbles later and she was out the door and slowly walking down the hall, the wall her crutch.

"I don't know dude. She seems too chill to be a normal person." An American accent startled her as it came from the door she was passing, "And who else can see England's bunnies? And my brother? He's basically invisible to everyone including me sometimes. I almost didn't notice he was there if it wasn't for her reaction."

"Я не знаю, Америка" A heavy Russian accent nearly whispered, "She is not like us. I don't think she is Персонификация."

"Whatever dude. Maybe Yao or Allister might know."

"Maybe."

Translations:

 _Frau_ \- Girl/Woman

 _Ma petite femme, quell est voter nom?_ \- My little woman, what is your name?

 _Je m'appelle Hazel Quinstrom. Je_ _suis am_ _é_ _ricaine._ \- My name is Hazel Quinstrom. I am American.

 _Ragazza_ – Girl

Я не знаю, Америка – I don't know, America

Персонификация - Personification


	3. 2 Hello

_**In case people want to know, Hazel knows English, French, Spanish, German, Gaelic (Scots), and Italian. She was in her first year of Russian. Enjoy chapter 2.**_

" _I don't know dude. She seems too chill to be a normal person." An American accent startled her as it came from the door she was passing, "And who else can see England's bunnies? And my brother? He's basically invisible to everyone including me sometimes. I almost didn't notice he was there if it wasn't for her reaction."_

 _"Я не знаю, Америка" A heavy Russian accent nearly whispered, "She is not like us. I don't think she is Персонификация."_

 _"Whatever dude. Maybe Yao or Allister might know."_

 _"Maybe."  
_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door swung open under Hazel's weight, causing her to stumble a few steps but right herself before she could fall. She was very aware of the eyes now on her as she bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the room. The Russian and American were sitting at a table eating pelmeni and a burger, respectively.

"What is it девушка? What brings you here?" The Russian inquired, seemingly indifferent from her appearance.

"I… I uh…" Hazel stammered, unable to find the words she felt would be a suitable answer. The hair on the back of her neck began to prickle the longer she was under the gaze of the two men. There was the sense of something, whether it be the dark the Russian was giving off or the sense of utter power emanating between the two of them, she couldn't determine. Tossing the feeling aside with a shiver and a shake of her head, she gathered enough wits to answer, "I'm looking for my things. I had something irreplaceable in my shirt pocket." Her eyes shifted between the two men as she wondered if they would help, or even believe, her.

"Well…" The American grunted out as he got up, "I'm the hero so I think I'll help you find them. Alfred F Jones at your service." The Russian rolled his eyes at the American's statement but also stood.

"I will go ask others. Maybe Yao or Kiku knows where сокровища are." The Russian spoke in partially broken English as he addressed Hazel.

"Yeah. You do that Ivan." Alfred chuckled as he grabbed Hazel's arm and pulled her from the room. She glanced back at Ivan as he shook his head and moved to start his task. At first she hadn't realized he had been talking, just that there was a noise coming from somewhere and she wasn't paying attention. It wasn't until he waved his hand in her face when she realized everything was coming from him.

"Huh?"

"I was asking what you were looking for." Alfred repeated. He was looking down at her while still pulling her along.

"I… Something my father gave me… Before he died. It's all I have left of them." I glanced about as I spoke, looking into the different open rooms that we passed. Every so often I could see a person or two interacting but we moved too quickly to see who it was.

"It's good that you have something. I still have one of the tea boxes that Arthur gave me a long time ago…" Alfred seemed to slow a little as he spoke before he shook his head.

"That's… Good?" Hazel was beginning to wonder who these strangers were. There were so many of them and they all were so different, "Um, I hope you don't mind… But what's with everything here?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred, now out of his memorial stupor, smirked and raised a brow at her.

"I mean… Oh, I feel stupid for asking this… You're all so different. The way you act, it's almost stereotypical. You yourself seem to be the embodiment of American pride." Hazel sighed and looked to her feet as Alfred laughed.

"Well. You're not wrong." Her head shot up quickly at his words.

"What!?"

"I said you aren't wrong. I am America." He looked back to see her very confused face and continued, "Ok. So my name is Alfred, but I am also the embodiment of America. Like Ivan is Russia, Francis is France, Arthur England, and so on. Were in Russia now. Been here since we found you. Nobody wanted to leave you alone here. We were too curious about you. So now that you're awake, I suspect everyone will start going home. Who you go with is your choice…"

"I… I'm in Russia?" Hazel's voice was disbelieving.

"I say all that and that's what you have to say? Dudette! You're awesome!" Alfred laughed again as he finally opened a door.

"Probably not as Awesome as me! Kesesese!" The albino German laughed from inside the room. They were once again back in the room she woke up in.

"Right… Gil, do you know where her stuff is?" Alfred let go of her hand and moved over to the German, sharing a special handshake.

" _Nein_. But I think the Kiku might. Him and Ling took them to get them clean when the frau woke up." Gilbert looked over to Hazel with a smirk.

"Where at?" Alfred asked to which Gil responded with a shrug. Hazel sighed and shuffled to a chair, her legs ready to give, and plopped down onto the plush seat. She sat in thought as Alfred and Gilbert on continued with their conversation. Sure, she heard what Alfred had said about what he and the others were, but that wasn't what she found important. How on earth had she gone from Eastern America to Russia? Something brought her here and it was none of these men or women.

" _Měiguó! Pǔlǔshì!_ You are needed. As are you _niánqīng nǚhái_." A Chinaman suddenly entered the room, his long hair flying over his shoulder in a long ponytail. His eyes were wide as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Both of his hands were propped up against the frame of the door. The two men looked to each other before taking off towards the door, the German somehow picking her up and flinging her over his shoulder as they all left the room.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Девушка – Girl  
Сокровища – Treasures  
Nein - No

(I'm not sure if Japanese and Chinese characters appear so I'll do the pronunciations)

Měiguó. Pǔlǔshì. - America. Prussia.  
Niánqīng nǚhái. - Young girl. 


	4. 3 Truth

**_I'm about 83% sure where I'm going with this. Heh. It's hard to find time to write 1 story when you have about 50 others entrapping your mind. Sorry it took me so long to update. Hope you like it!_**

 _"Měiguó! Pǔlǔshì! You are needed. As are you niánqīng nǚhái." A Chinaman suddenly entered the room, his long hair flying over his shoulder in a long ponytail. His eyes were wide as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Both of his hands were propped up against the frame of the door. The two men looked to each other before taking off towards the door, the German somehow picking her up and flinging her over his shoulder as they all left the room._

Hazel could have sworn she screamed when the presumed Prussian suddenly snatched her up from the comfy seat. She hit his back once as they ran down the hallway to a large, open room. A semi-circle table sat in the center of the room with some of the people she met were sitting. When Gil put her down, she could see who was there. If she took Alfred's word for truth, it was England, France, Russia, Germany, Italy (North and South), Spain, Japan, and now America, China and Prussia. A lone chair sat against the flat side of the table, which was for her. When everyone sat, Germany stood.

"Now that we're all together, there's something we must brush upon." His hand gestured to her lightly, "Hazel Quinstrom. She is a change. Not many mortals know of our existence and if any do, it is only one or two of us they know. And even then they don't know the truth." Hazel watched as England's gaze flicks over to America. The pain in his eyes pulls a cord in her heart.

"But you are the first human to actually know and understand us for us and not freak out." America speaks out from his seat. This gets him more looks as the others process what he just said.

"You told her?" China asks, incredulously, voicing the thoughts of most. Alfred began to mutter about how he thought it was a good idea and such.

"Yes. He did. In his defence, I did ask." Hazel stood from her seat before anyone else could speak, "Look, it's not like I'm in some sort of terrorist cell or going to be able to speak to anyone about what I know. No offence, but I'm in one of the few countries I don't know the language of." She set her gaze on each of them. A silence falls before the group suddenly roars to life with arguments. It took Germany to bark out an order of silence for everyone to calm down.

"All in favour of Hazel staying in our protection until she won't be around anymore?" At the question, America and Prussia's hand were already raised and the others slowly began to join them until it became a basically unanimous vote. For this she was grateful, though weary on what the 'anymore' stood for. The meeting adjourned and she was left debating in the chair she had been put into. It took her a while to notice that someone else was still in the room.

"Matthew?" Hazel turned to look at the quiet Canadian. He calmly walked up to her, took her hand, and placed the owl and fox in it.

"I found these when we found you. I kept them safe just in case." Hazel smiled and hugged him after getting out of her chair.

"Thank you Matthew. This means so much to me."

It had been a week since the decision and many of the nations had left for home. Hazel had decided to stay in Russia until her health completely returned. Within that time, with Ivan, Natalya, and Iryna worked together to teach her Russian, even if some of it was in different dialects. She managed to gain a grasp on the language as she stayed there, though something was calling her. Something pulling her to the door that led out into the world. Something she needed.

 ** _Again, sorry for the long wait. I haven't been able to post because SOMEONE decided to disconnect my phone off. Otherwise, I REALLY hope you're enjoying my story! Sorry for this being so short..._**


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